


Slow Hand

by Mirimea



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blow Jobs, Booty Calls, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Secret Relationship, Set in Uganda, Sexual Content, Snapshots, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimea/pseuds/Mirimea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elder Price needs to learn some patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slow Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to force my way out of my writer's block by way of plotless porn. \o/ This is vaguely based on an idea that Greerian threw my way ages ago.

Kevin Price is a very goal-oriented lover.

Not that Connor has anyone to compare it to, other than himself, nor does he know what he is supposed to expect. What is the difference between sex and… touching? Roaming hands and muffled moans, sweat and… other bodily fluids. It would be _nasty_ if it wasn’t also so addictive.

Connor knows now what Elder Price looks like with his hair messed up by Connor’s fingers, and how there are a few precious moments when his face shows vulnerability in the moments before and after he reaches his climax over his own stomach and the back of Connor’s hand. And Connor doesn't know if he finds it sweet, or sexy, or just strangely _intimate_ —but he wants more of it.

They are never completely naked, and it is only ever borderline private; in one of the bathrooms, in the shed, once at night very daringly on the couch in their common room. And there is never quite enough time for Connor to realize what is going on until it is over. Elder Price will force him over the edge with bursts of restless energy, clumsily and as though he truly can’t help himself, and Connor will find himself resting his forehead against Elder Price’s torso, gasping for breath and trying to will the world to stop spinning quite so fast.

Connor doesn't even know who had initiated this _thing_ they have in the first place. He thinks it might have been him because… well, in retrospect he may have been _flirting_ a little.

He might have gone a bit too far with it, even. Elder Price’s mixture of confusion and discomfort had transformed into something almost like allure, and then… well. As long as none of the other Elders find out, it’s alright, Connor hopes. He even finds it in himself to feel bad, about it, because he is supposed to be the _district leader_ of this mission. Is he taking advantage? He likes to think that Elder Price does not feel compromised by all this.

He likes to think that their breathless but genuine laughter when they fumble with shirt buttons and zippers _means_ something. 

They were supposed to get ready for bed, but both had lingered to let the other Elders take care of their business first. The bathroom is their safest location, after all; a flimsy lock is better than no lock at all. But instead of brushing his teeth, Connor can feel the heat radiating from Elder Price’s body, his thigh pressed between Connor’s legs and his hands finding their way under his shirt, and a part of him wants to close his eyes and just go along for the ride. But there is that other part of him, the part that keeps hoping, that makes him press his hands against Elder Price’s upper arms to make him slow down.

“Kiss me?” he asks, tilting his head up.

Elder Price’s hands move to rest on his hips. His cheeks are pink. “What--?”

They've kissed before, hurried and forceful. Now, Connor stands on his toes to capture Elder Price's lips with his own and… his very core is _burning_. He understands Elder Price's need to hurry, he truly _does_ , but this is something else, especially the way Elder Price whimpers into his mouth, sweet and soft.

—and hot.

"Slow down," Connor mumbles once they break apart. "I say we take it slow, today."

Elder Price frowns. "Someone might find us."

"Not for a while yet," Connor says with a confidence he doesn't feel. "Take your shirt off?"

He runs his hands over Elder Price's sides, tries to smile at the hesitance that he is met with. "Please?"

Elder Price fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, so Connor decides to help him until their hands finally meet at the last button in the middle and he helps Elder Price to shrug out of the shirt. Then, of course--Elder Price is still a good Mormon boy, in a way. Connor tugs at the temple garments until Elder Price bites his lip and tugs it over his head.

"You look so good," Connor mumbles. "It should be unfair, but--" He feels a bit shy all of a sudden, but his hands seem to know what he wants and work without his direct consent, tracing over Elder Price’s belly until it quivers. Maybe it tickles. "At least I get to enjoy it, right?"

“Uh, yeah,” Elder Price says faintly, sounding like he doesn’t know whether he is flattered or nervous. “I mean--”

Connor’s hands find their way to Elder Price's nipples and a tiny, sadistic part of Connor's mind almost wants to pinch them, but in the end he only rubs his thumb over them, curious about the muffled sounds Elder Price makes at the touch. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Elder Price gasps. "But--"

He bucks his hips forward and Connor can feel his erection against his leg.

“You’re so impatient, Elder Price,” Connor says, feeling surprisingly delighted. Something has shifted in their dynamic. It’s not about taking it slow anymore, as much as it is about Connor enjoying this new feeling that he does have a sort of _power_ in all this.

He presses one hand between Elder Price’s legs and squeezes, watching Elder Price’s face as he does.

“Jeez,” Elder Price mutters. His bangs are beginning to fall over his forehead. “What do you want?”

“You,” Connor tells him, fluttering his eyelashes teasingly. And then, to cover up his own uncertainness, he leans up for another kiss while he fumbles to take Elder Price’s hands in his own, guiding them to his own shirt until he takes the hint and begins to explore while Connor unbuttons his own shirt.

He feels a bit inadequate next to Elder Price, to be honest; thankfully, the warm hands roaming his body helps him forget about that.

Honestly, Connor doesn’t _know_ what he wants. He wants everything _everywhere_ , and he wants to continue feeling this way even as he wants more of it, even as he knows that _more_ means an ending, too.

He begins to unbuckle Elder Price’s belt slowly, marveling at the fact that this is starting to become _familiar_ , undressing someone from this angle. He likes that.

Elder Price lets out a little hiss when Connor pushes his pants and underwear down his hips. He takes a moment to _look_ ; he’s never done that before. It ought to be embarrassing or obscene, but it’s not. It is—well, it’s _hot_ , and suddenly Connor understands why someone would ever want to give someone else a blowjob. If he didn’t think that Elder Price would spontaneously combust from the sheer shock, he would have liked to try it.

Well. Perhaps some other time.

He licks his hand a couple of times to lubricate it; spitting feels so _crude_ , before he forms his hand into a loose fist and begins to stroke.

Control is nice. Control is good. But Elder Price’s hands have stilled on his back, merely massaging distractedly and that just won’t do.

Connor looks up; Elder Price’s eyes are half-lidded and he is biting his lower lip. He steps closer, pressing as much of his body against him as he can while still pumping Elder Price’s cock lazily, letting his hand tighten just to hear Elder Price let out small moans.

“Shh,” he says, his lips grazing over Elder Price’s cheek. “Someone might hear.”

“Oh my gosh.” Elder Price holds on to Connor’s shoulders like it is a sort of lifeline. “Elder McKinley--”

“My name is Connor.” His own cock is straining against the zipper of his pants but he knows it is his own fault for doing _this_ , in this position, and he gets what relief he can from trying to press himself closer and grinding against Elder Price’s thigh.

“No—I mean, Connor--” Elder Price’s voice breaks in a way that would embarrass anyone, and then he comes over Connor’s hand.

Surprised, Connor tightens his grip further, speeding up to guide Elder Price through his orgasm, watching the white streaks cover the back of his hand.

Darn it.

“Sorry,” Elder Price mutters. His cheeks are burning bright red now, and Connor can’t help but smile.

“We need to work on your stamina, I think,” he teases, and is rewarded by an even brighter blush and a grimace. “It’s fine. You’re young. It happens.” He reaches for a paper towel and begins to dry his hands off.

“We’re the same age,” Elder Price protests, still looking embarrassed as he tucks himself back in his pants.

“I’m almost twenty.” Which is, as far as Connor knows, almost an entire year older than Elder Price. Not that it truly matters; he just likes to pretend he knows better.

“I’m sorry,” Elder Price repeats, and Connor is still very much excited, so he stands on his toes to kiss him, pressing his body against Elder Price’s.

“It’s fine,” he promises. “You can still—help me out, right?” He grinds against Elder Price’s hip—

Someone knocks on the bathroom door. They step away from each other quickly, and then there is Elder Zelder’s sleepy voice through the door.

“Who is in there? It’s been occupied for _ages_.”

Both of them open their mouths, then they hesitate until Elder Price indicates for Connor to continue.

“Sorry. Just give me a minute,” Connor says, keeping his voice low to avoid waking anyone else up. They hold their breaths and listen. Elder Zelder lets out an exasperated sigh and then, thankfully, seems to head down towards the common room.

“Hurry, now that he’s gone,” Connor hisses, practically pushing Elder Price out of the door.

“But I need to brush my teeth,” he protests in a hushed voice, as though the thought of going to bed without doing it is completely unthinkable. Connor throws his shirt at him and closes the door, locking himself into the bathroom again. He leans back against the door, sighing.

So much for taking it slow.


	2. Easy Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut, held together with the thinnest of plots. There will be at least one more chapter of this.

The first time that Connor ever wraps his lips around the head of Elder Price’s cock, Elder Price’s hand slips on the floor where he is bracing himself and he falls heavily on his elbow; Connor has to jerk away to avoid Elder’s Price’s knee that shoots up for balance. Elder Price lets out a quiet whimper as he clutches his elbow and Connor semi-amusedly, semi-awkwardly pats his naked thigh in sympathy.

Privacy is a luxury that they don’t have most of the time; they are definitely dirtying their uniforms by hiding out in the tool shed with the excuse that they are doing inventory. And  _technically_  both Elder Poptarts and Elder Cunningham should be within hearing distance, but with Poptarts resting in his room with a headache and Elder Cunningham’s general tendency to sneak off to meet Nabulungi—well. Connor is certainly not going to protest against the district’s increasingly relaxed attitude towards the traditional missionary rules. That would be ridiculous. It is helping him get _laid_.

Connor has found that he really, _really_ likes sex. He has also realized that the more of it that he gets to have, the more he _thinks_ about it, until his entire mind feels almost a bit too preoccupied with it at times. When Elder Price yawns over his cereal in the morning Connor has to look away to keep from blushing, because _that mouth._ When Elder Price stretches until his shirt is tight over his chest for a short moment, Connor has to excuse himself to the bathroom just _because_. It’s infuriating, it’s frustrating, it’s—

Glorious.

When Connor really concentrates, he can _sort of_ see Elder Price in the same light that he did when he first arrived to Uganda, months ago. He is as handsome as ever, he has got the same drive, and he still moves and talks as though he considers it entirely natural that other people pay attention to him (which to be fair, most of the time people _do_ , at least the other elders… at least Connor and Elder Cunningham).

But more and more often, that ideal picture of Elder Price is merging into the person that Connor has taken to calling Kevin is his head, Kevin Price who has warm hands and a genuine smile. Kevin Price, who watches with wide eyes while Connor braces one hand on the floor, the other wrapped around the base of Elder Price’s cock while he slowly leans down and–

Well. Connor can only wince in sympathy, because it seems like Elder Price manages to hit that  _particular_  nerve in his elbow that makes the entire arm buzz and ache.

“You  _really_  don’t have to do that,” Elder Price says once he is able to talk again, his hand still cradling his elbow. “I mean–” he trails off, then opens his mouth as though he wants to continue, but no sound comes out. And even though he sounds slightly horrified, Connor notices that his pupils are wide and his cheeks flushed. And well, as indiscrete as it is to notice, there are _other_ parts of Kevin that don’t seem to have lost interest yet either.

Connor’s fingers tingle as though yearning to _touch_ , but he withdraws his hand from Elder Price’s thigh and sits back on his knees. “It’s okay. I  _want_  to.”

He  _more_  than wants to. Embarrassing perhaps, but the idea has been nagging at him for  _months_  and he can’t say why it intrigues him so much, he really  _can’t_  because he can logically agree with Elder Price’s shock over the action–and yet.

He really wants to try it, and he says as much.

“I can’t imagine why,” Elder Price mutters, with the tone of voice that tells Connor that he is embarrassed that he made a bit of a fool of himself. It is another thing that Connor has learned about Elder Price lately: he has an almost troubling fear of failure, not so much because of what he thinks other people will think of him as because it seems to genuinely bug him when his best efforts don’t yield the best possible outcome.

“Well.” Connor smiles, kneads Elder Price’s thigh comfortingly, and perhaps a little bit saucily. The buzzing under his skin urges him to get them back in the mood. “You didn’t seem to dislike it?”

“Uh.” Elder Price swallows. “Well.”

And that is how Connor ends up giving his first ever blow job to Elder Price, kneeling on the rough wooden floor and with Elder Price leaning against the wall of the tool shed. Sometimes, Connor thinks that the entire shed might shake when Elder Price’s body jerks in response to some of the touches. And he has  _no idea_  what he is doing, but the sounds Elder Price make are gratifying at worst and absolutely fantastic at best and Connor  _revels_ in them. He has to use one hand to press against Elder Price’s hip to keep him from jerking up into his mouth, something which causes him to gag not once but twice before Connor learns what he needs to do.

He experiments with his tongue, blows hot air, feels absolutely, delightfully obscene in the way he uses his own saliva to get as much lubrication as possible. The sounds he makes are wet and somewhat disgusting in the best possible way.

He can sort of guess when  _it_  is going to happen, but he keeps going until Elder Price pushes him away. A string of saliva connects them for a moment before Connor remembers to wipe his mouth with his hand. He watches Elder Price wrap his fist around his own cock and pump a couple of times before he reaches orgasm.

It is a nice view.

“You should’ve let me do that,” Connor chides him once he thinks Elder Price will be able to hear. He wipes his mouth again, considering whether he thinks he salty-sweaty taste on his tongue is gross or intriguing.

Elder Price blinks at him, unfocused enough that Connor takes pity on him and uses his own palm to wipe him off. He has learned that cum dries to become something crusty that pulls uncomfortably at his skin if he leaves it for long enough and he thinks the least he can do is help Elder Price avoid that fate. Of course, this leaves him with a handful of the mess that he dries off onto the floorboards the best he can.

“Umm,” he says then, because Elder Price is being uncharacteristically quiet. “Was it–okay?”

Elder Price blinks again, then slowly begins to tuck himself back in his underwear again. “You really need to ask?”

His tone of voice is difficult to interpret, but Connor finds himself preening nonetheless, smiling and brushing his hair back.

He doesn’t expect Elder Price to lean forward on his knees to capture his mouth with his lips, but it is a pleasant surprise. He would fall back if Elder Price doesn’t wrap an arm around his back to steady him. The arousal that has been buzzing around his skin comes back in full force; he wiggles his hips in hopes that Elder Price will take pity on him.

He does, quickly and almost possessively. He brings Connor over the edge with the accuracy of someone that has gotten to know what exactly makes Connor’s body respond in the best way possible. Elder Price looks just a little smug when he watches Connor gasp for breath.

“Was that okay?” he asks, parodying Connor’s earlier question with badly concealed pride as he wipes his hands off.

“It was good for someone that doesn’t have gay thoughts,” Connor retaliates teasingly, then instantly regrets it when Elder Price’s face changes. “I mean–”

But Elder Price doesn’t seem mad, he realizes. There is a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “I don’t.” He pauses, a bit of color appearing on his cheeks. “Well, I _didn’t_.”

Connor raises his hips off the floor to pull his pants back up again. He personally finds it difficult to believe, if only because he finds it difficult to  _relate_. Sex might be new to him, but the  _thoughts_  aren’t. And maybe his flirting with Elder Price had been mostly wistful thinking, but it had always been  _something_ more than that, he thinks. “Okay.”

Elder Price leans back against the wall again. There is a lock of hair that has escaped his usual style to rest against his forehead. “I’m not gay,” he says slowly. “I’m going to get married someday.”

“Okay,” Connor repeats, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks. He doesn’t know what else he had been expecting. Nothing, really.

Elder Price meets his eyes. “But–I don’t know.” His frown deepens.

“Don’t know what?”

Elder Price brings his legs up so that he can rest his elbows against his knees. “ _Anything_ , really.”

The stitch of guilt that Connor feels at that may be misplaced, but he can’t ignore it. He knows that Elder Price has been struggling with a lot of things lately, including his faith. They all have.

“Well, I know that you’re handsome,” he says, and for someone with Elder Price’s ego, he looks surprisingly startled by the comment. But the reaction is gratifying, so Connor finds himself continuing. “And you’re smart, and charismatic, and confident. To a fault,” he somehow finds it necessary to add, sticking his tongue out at Elder Price’s frown. “But you’re nice, too, and sweet when you remember to be.”

“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting or insulting me,” Elder Price protests.

“I’m being honest.”

Elder Price makes a strange face. “Oh.”

“My point is–” Connor pauses. “Well, I don’t have a point. Just… you’re a good person.”

If Elder Price was to get up and leave now, Connor thinks that he might begin to hate him a bit. He doesn’t know why he feels that so strongly, doesn’t know why his heart has started to increase its speed in his chest until it feels almost painful.

Elder Price doesn’t reply for a while. He fixes his belt and begins to brush the dirt off his knees, but it is obvious that he is processing something. Finally, he stops fiddling and sighs quietly. “Can I kiss you?”

Connor should probably say no. Maybe.

He doesn’t.

Elder Price’s mouth is surprisingly careful, as though he is asking Connor a question that Connor doesn’t know how to answer. When they pull apart, Elder Price is frowning again.

“I don’t know anything,” he repeats. His hand is resting on the back of Connor’s neck.

“Okay.” Connor swallows, reaches up to push the stray lock of hair back into position. They stay like that for a moment, until Connor begins to hear the faint sound of voices and is unpleasantly reminded of the fact that there is a real, dry, hot, not entirely pleasant world outside of the shed. He steps away.

“Well, anyway,” he says, brushing his shirt off as though brushing himself clean from their contact. He needs to remind himself not to get too attached. “Back to work, right?”

He smiles to show that he is–something. Fine. Not angry. Not a person with a crush on Elder Price.

He  _has_  a crush on Elder Price. It is just… hard, not to.

“Right,” Elder Price echoes, offering a somewhat wavering smile.


	3. Midnight Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like this story is lacking dramaturgy, that's probably because it is. Sorry, it may just be the most self-indulgent thing that I have ever written. There are more scenes to come.

Connor’s feet are aching by the time he gets back to the mission house and he finds himself longing for a proper bath, even though he _knows_ that he is roughly twelve months, or eight thousand miles, away from such a thing. He can imagine it though, hot water with lavender-scented oil and perhaps even someone there to give him a massage. With his hand resting on the door handle, he allows himself to close his eyes for a short moment as he envisions it. He has never taken a bath with someone else before, but he thinks Elder Price would probably be a good person for such an occasion.

\--Except Connor has to forcibly pull himself out of that particular swamp of thoughts because it is one of those things that simply won’t happen.

The mission house is heavy with something like _expectation_ and the almost sickening smell of banana-based alcohol. But the voices coming from the common room are unexpectedly low, as though the party has already quieted down.

Connor had felt somewhat relieved once he had realized that he would be missing their one-year anniversary due to his quarterly dinner with the mission president, and that was _despite_ the fact that the mission president is probably as fond of Connor as Connor is of him, which means that Connor had been lucky that the dinner had ended as pleasantly as it had. But at least the dinner had meant that Connor, in his role of district leader, could pretend to simply not have any knowledge about the alcohol that he knows his fellow missionaries had probably consumed tonight. It also meant that _he_ would not feel any pressure to taste any of it. The dinner had meant that he had been forced to take the late bus back, however, and so the hallway is completely dark as he walks through it and towards the common room.

No one in the group of people sitting in a sort-of circle on the floor notices him at first. Elder Cunningham is resting his head on Sister Hatimbi’s shoulder, looking more or less asleep. Elder Neely, for some reason, is massaging Sister Alupo’s feet for her; she is stretched out on the floor and smiling sleepily. The older and younger villagers seem to have left by now, only the people around their age is left, and they’re all talking with each other in surprisingly hushed voices and looking much more relaxed with each other than Connor has ever seen them.

Elder Price is the first one to notice him; he smiles until it looks almost childish on his face. He is lying on his back on the floor, with his head in Sister Hatimbi’s lap. His hair looks ruffled, as though Sister Hatimbi has been playing with it, and his eyes are warm and sated. He raises a hand, stretching his fingers out as though he thinks he can reach Connor from across the room. 

It is a beckoning if Connor ever saw one, one that he would be hesitant to obey if not for the openness in Elder Price's eyes. He walks over, very nearly steps on Elder Poptart's hand in the dim light, and, because Elder Price still has arm stretched out and palm open, Connor takes it and squeezes lightly. "Hey."

Elder Price squeezes back, then pulls on Connor's hand until Connor has to lean closer. For a moment he thinks that Elder Price might try to hug him, right there, in front of everyone, but thankfully he doesn't, seems too sluggish, or tired. He merely smiles at Connor again. "You missed the party."

Connor looks at sister Hatimbi, who has started to run her fingers through Elder Price's hair. Remarkably, Elder Price doesn't protest, merely closes his eyes and hums, his fingers still wrapped around Connor’s hand.

Sister Hatimbi smiles, looking only a little abashed and mostly pleased. "You white boys have no tolerance for alcohol," she explains.  

When Connor continues to look at her, her shoulders slump a little in faux-remorse. "Papa might have slipped something in his juice."

"Naba did, too," Elder Cunningham says, straightening up for a moment, looking like he surprises even himself with the volume of his voice. He lowers it and lets his head fall back to rest against Sister Hatimbi's shoulder again. "And then _I_ did, because it was fun."

"That’s not nice." Connor frowns, because he sounds like a kindergarten teacher scolding a bunch of children.

"But look how happy he is," Sister Hatimbi protests, smiling widely. "I like him better this way."

She runs her finger down the bridge of his nose, then flicks it lightly. "He is very responsive to my touch. Almost like a dog. I wish I had a camera."

Connor feels his cheeks begin to heat up, maybe because of Sister's Hatimbi's somewhat wicked smile. "That's not nice," he repeats, feeling his voice lose its edge, then looks down when Elder Price tugs on his hand. "Yes, Elder?"

"Don't be mad at her," he says, smiling lazily. His pupils are wide enough to make his brown eyes seem almost entirely black in the dim light. He is difficult to understand like this, not his words but because of the way he says them. He sounds different. “This is good.” He closes his eyes. “I like it.”

“Anyway.” Connor begins to stand up, pulling at Elder Price’s arm. “I think it’s time you went to bed.”

“I could just sleep here,” Elder Price protests, even as he struggles to force himself into a sitting position. He blinks, holding his free arm out for balance. “Oh.”

“We should let Sister Hatimbi head back home,” Connor says, sparing a moment to give her and Elder Cunningham a pointed look.

Elder Cunningham looks entirely clueless for a moment, then scratches his head nervously. “Oh--! I’ll follow her home. Make sure she gets home safe and all that.”

Privately, Connor is more worried about Elder Cunningham finding his way back home alone afterwards. Thankfully, Sister Hatimbi seems to share Connor’s concern. She looks torn for a moment, and Connor more than understands the lure of having an entirely private moment with someone special, but then she smiles and quickly kisses Elder Cunningham’s cheek. “You are sweet. But Afiya and I will be fine.”

“Goodnight, sisters,” Connor says, even though the formality is starting to feel trite. Elder Cunningham follows them to the door and the party begins to wrap up. Elder Price is looming by Connor’s elbow as though he is uncertain of why he is standing up at all. Connor can’t help but poke him in the side, knowing that he is ticklish.  

“To bed with you,” he says, but Elder Price shakes his head.

“I need some air, I think.” His words are unusually deliberate and just a little bit slower than usual, and it makes Connor suspects that he is concentrating on not slurring.  

“You alright?”

“Yes. It’s just—it’s hot in here, right?” He does look flushed, Connor realizes. He knows that the air outside isn’t much better than inside, but at least it is free of the smell of sweat and alcohol, so he rests his hand on Elder Price’s back as he leads him out through the front door and onto the small patch of dry grass beside the tool shed.

“Please don’t throw up,” he says, then realizes that his hand is still resting on the small of Elder Price’s back and removes it. It has been a couple of days since they last kissed, right by this very shed. And much as Connor would like to, _this_ probably isn’t the right time to revisit that kind of thing.

Elder Price surprises him by laughing; or rather, letting out a breath of air that is possibly amused, or annoyed. But when Connor looks up at him, he is smiling even though he looks tired. “I won’t. I feel pretty good. I think.” He holds a hand to his stomach, frowning. “I don’t know. I can’t think.”

“You’re drunk,” Connor supplies, but Elder Price merely grimaces at him.

“I’ve figured. It’s Nabal—Nabulun—Sister Hatimbi’s fault.” He stumbles over the long words, looking increasingly frustrated with himself. Especially when Connor can’t keep from chuckling. “It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.”

“What doesn’t matter?” Connor asks mildly, swatting a mosquito on his arm.

“Anything.” Elder Price slowly sinks down to sit on the ground. He rests his elbows on his knees, then leans forward and runs his hand through his hair. “I wish I could go to Disneyland.”

Surprised, Connor lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We went there once when I was little,” Elder Price explains, leaning down until he is lying on his back on the ground in a way he probably wouldn’t if he had been sober, staring up at the sky. “It’s an entire _world_ designed to have fun in. It was the best day of my life.”

 “I’ve never been.” Grimacing, Connor brushes away twigs and leaves from the ground before he lowers himself down. For all of the times that he and Elder Price have made out, Connor thinks that this moment might be the most intimate that they have ever been with each other. A part of him wants to lie down next to Elder Price, maybe snuggle up to his side for a while. He wishes that Elder Price hadn’t been so obviously drunk right now.

For some reason, his heart speeds up when Elder Price turns his head to look at him through the dark. Maybe it is because he can’t interpret the look in his eyes.

“I don’t really like going on rides, anyway,” Connor continues nervously. “I went on a rollercoaster once and I think it was the worst moment in my life.”

“You don’t have to go on any rides. You just have to _be_ there.” Elder Price sighs. His words are getting a bit slurred, as though he is getting too tired to care about it anymore. “I had a point, but I don’t remember what it was. Maybe I _should_ go to bed.”

“Probably,” Connor agrees. The long day is beginning to wear him down; his body is starting to feel heavy and he is really looking forward to going to bed as well. He stands up and holds out a hand for Elder Price to take. “Come on.”

“I don’t need help,” Elder Price mumbles even as he takes Connor’s hand. It takes a bit of force to pull him up from the ground and once Elder Price finally stands, Connor almost topples over. He steadies himself with his free hand on Elder Price’s shoulder, then becomes aware of how close they are and how Elder Price’s breath is hot and smells faintly of alcohol and something sweet and then; the distance between them somehow closes completely when Elder Price tilts his head down.

The kiss is strange; there’s no heat in it, nor nervousness, and Connor doesn’t know what the goal is; it just _is_. He melts into it, but for some reason his breath hitches and he pulls away. The loss of warmth leaves him starving for— _something_.

More.  

“Why are you so _much_?” Elder Price mutters against Connor’s left eyebrow. It tickles, but that is probably due to the way each and every nerve in his body is electrically charged and ready to spark.

This— _thing_ , or whatever he has with Elder Price, it’s not fun anymore. Maybe it is Elder Price’s reluctance, or denial that is reminding Connor of the real world and how everything is changing. In about a year, they will both be back home. Connor will be moving away from his parents, for good, and from what Connor suspects, Elder Price will be making things up to his family. Or will he? Connor doesn’t know, and maybe that is not really any of his business.

How well does he really know Elder Price, anyway? Did they ever really talk? When Connor tries to remember, it is mostly a flurry of touches and clothes being removed that comes to mind. His cheeks burn.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he repeats, turning his head away.


End file.
